


Beastial Urges

by WAMozart



Category: Classical Music RPF, Mozart - Fandom, Vivaldi - Fandom, classical music - Fandom - Fandom, werewolf - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, classical music pairings, composer slash, mozvaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-07-29 06:32:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7673731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WAMozart/pseuds/WAMozart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mozart was cursed by a werewolf months ago, and the great Italian violinist Antonio Vivaldi couldn't do anything about it. One night, it seemed that their close friendship may have gotten a little too close. Will Mozart be able to control the savage beast that lurks within him during a trifle between him and Vivaldi?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Preparation

**Author's Note:**

> HAHAHAHA THIS HERE IS MY FIRST EVER FANFIC PUBLISHED ON AO3 HOPE YOU ENJOY
> 
> this is actually based on what tara wrote just sayin
> 
>  
> 
> I twisted things up |D

"I-I'm terrified...." 

"I know..."

"This is a bad idea..."

"I know..."

"I-I don't want to hurt you...."

"I-I know..."

"Do you not care?! Don't say things like that...I could kill you, or worse!!" 

 

Mozart's drastic change in tone scared Vivaldi. He realized it too, and a flash of regret hit his chest.

"...I-I know...." Vivaldi breathed. He stood.

"I'm s-sorry...."

"I know. It's ok."

Vivaldi looked distantly at the scene before him -- a friend, distraught, with wrists in tight shackles. He slightly hated his own attitude to this, acting almost detached and seemingly apathetic to Mozart. But he wasn't detached. Nor apathetic.

He was worried, horrified. 

It's not because of what Mozart could turn into. It was worse than that.

They both knew. 

The physical and mental agony that Mozart had to go through was the real horror...Vivaldi didn't want to think about it, anxious of knowing it was going to happen tonight. But he knew that the moment he expressed these types of emotions, the rest would keep crashing down, crumbling his heart, and perhaps even shattering Mozart's. Just like a spiral down to an endless hell.

It didn't matter how many times he'd seen this monthly event. It still hurt, and both knew that neither of them were ever going to be used to it. Vivaldi didn't know if that part was more painful than the rest. 

As he slipped the ring of keys into his coat's pocket, Mozart breathed as deep as he could to prepare for the pain he had to endure once again. While his eyes showed a calm nature, Vivaldi noticed the trembling hands, anxiety slipping through rather obviously. A part of him wished that he could share the pain, so Mozart wouldn't have to fully experience it, or at least not on his own. It felt unfair and undeserving.

Hoping for any kind of a good sign, Vivaldi left the large cage he was supposed to be staying in, and peeked through the curtain of the window by Mozart, careful to not let any ray of moonlight touch him in the least. He observed that the moon was covered by heavy, dense rain clouds. 

At least that was reassuring.

As long as the moon wasn't out in the clear, Mozart wouldn't transform...but the pitiful man would still feel somewhat animalistic, the redhead thought painfully. 

He looked at the wall clock not too far away from him.

"9:46" he read. Two hours and fourteen minutes, he quickly calculated.

Mozart immediately noticed the sorrowful demeanor on Vivaldi's face. 

"W-what does the moon look like?" he asked, wanting to break the uncomfortable silence between him and his friend.

He soon regretted asking that question. Images of a crystal-clear full moon flashed through his mind right after the words left his mouth. That idea only bought awful memories, rather than the nights he used to adore watching the moon when staying up late. 

Vivaldi gave a bitter smile.

"Fortunately, it's blocked off by a mass of clou--"

A heavy cacophony of a clap of thunder and streaks of lightning rudely interrupted him, making it seem like the very heavens were making fun of the duo. The windy rattling of rain ensued, adding a complete suit of mockery. 

Mozart suddenly emitted a scream of pain and fear, struggling to escape from his chains begging for it to stop, much like a child. Quickly, the Italian rushed to his aid, covering his dear friend's ears and holding him close to his chest. 

Vivaldi could already guess how terribly thunderstorms affects Mozart as a werewolf...a pre-werewolf...in this case. 

 

He'd seen how restless dogs cried as their highly-sensitive ears felt malaise from the loud clash of noises. Considering Mozart's state, he wasn't quite surprised to see him react similarly. 

 

He continued to embrace his close companion tightly until his prayers finally made the noises quiet down. 

Occasionally, thunder and lightning would break the somewhat serene rain, but for the most part, Mozart could tolerate it.

As the ambience of the rain splashed in the background, their breathing slowly returned back to normal. Mozart buried one of his ears closer to Vivaldi's chest, a reaction largely based on the spur of the moment.

"Your heartbeat rings a nice vibe," he said. "But I can hear your asthma..."

Vivaldi calmly nodded, and rested his chin on top of Mozart's head. It was strangely calming...this intimate moment, and it was warm. It made Vivaldi comfortable on the inside, like a small but comfortable weight in his chest.

The other man sighed.

"Don't...stress yourself too much over me," he remarked. "I've dealt with this before. I-I'll get through it aga--ngh!"

A sharp pain in the abdomen forced Mozart to push Vivaldi away, needing a certain amount of space to curl himself up as he felt his body contorting itself. 

What terrible timing, his inner voice remarked.

"Wolfgang...!" 

Vivaldi picked himself up and ran to Mozart until the latter put up a hand in an attempt to stop him.

"N-No...I-I'm fine...really..." Mozart panted. "I-I'm not transforming yet...n-not yet..." He gave a snarky laugh.

"I-Instinct, I believe...it's probably merely the storm."

A sigh escaped from Vivaldi, but he couldn't tell if it was one of relief or one of increasing worry. 

An idea came to his mind, hopefully a helpful one.

"I may have something to assist you!" Vivaldi chirped. "As I can move anywhere, anyway!"

He sped downstairs.

The moment Vivaldi left, however, was the moment that Mozart dreaded during pre-transformation. He tried to block his intrusive thoughts of giving into transformation, remembering how he swore his life that he wasn't going to transform without Vivaldi's supervision. Only that man, that Italian redhead, could keep him in check, from creating chaos.

 

Relief was felt upon hearing the quick footsteps of Vivaldi racing back, and even so when he saw his face again. It felt as if every evil thought had left him under Vivaldi's presence. Vivaldi presented two white bandages, identical to each other and looking fairly usable...whatever they are going to be used for. "I smell horses on those things," Mozart stated, looking at the bandages confusedly. The other man gave a nervous laugh.

"These are called binders for horses," he explained. "They used to keep horses calm in moments of a thunderstorm.They should work the same way with you, right?"

 

"How do they even work?"

 

"The man told me that it had something to do with circulation in the blood...I can't exactly recall what he told me the rest of the time, unfortunately."

 

“Why did you get them?”

 

“I like to be driven around in carriages...they come in handy for coach drivers who don’t quite know about them.”

The pain in Mozart suddenly began to rise again. Trying to weigh the feeling down, he agreed to try them on without any further questions.

Vivaldi unlocked the shackles and carefully helped remove Mozart’s top clothing. Whenever his fingers brushed against Mozart’s, it somewhat surprised him with how hot he was, as if he had a fever. 

Again, that could have been part of the transformation process, forcing his body to burn so much energy for it to happen.

Mozart gave a sigh of relief, feeling the cool but slightly humid atmosphere around him, until another crack of thunder energized the air. 

A yelp emitted from him, and he once again clung onto Vivaldi’s clothing, dragging him down with him. He could hear his heart race once again; it was such an uncomfortable feeling.

“H-Hey Wolfgang...you’ll be alright.” Vivaldi assured, petting his friend’s back, despite the dripping sweat. “Just let me put this on for you.”

After listening to the explanation of how they were placed, Mozart lifted his arms in the air, giving some air for Vivaldi. He felt shy doing this, admittedly. It made him feel exposed - but also almost dangerous. He had this deep fear that the influence of the moon would suddenly strengthen, and that he would lash out at his companion, regardless if he was transformed or not.

Vivaldi strapped the binders in a cross-shaped pattern over Mozart, each going from between the neck and one shoulder down to the opposite side of the hip. Leaning back slightly, he examined to see if it was well-fitted, and nodded to himself with a slight feeling of pride.

Soon, his thoughts quickly shifted to just the general figure of Mozart. He noticed how slender his friend’s body was, how smooth the top of his torso was softly curving inwards with that smaller waist, then out to slightly wide hips. That shape was further exaggerated with his arms still being in the air. 

A rather feminine body shape, he thought. It only made him more attracted to Mozart...it’s very mesmerizing.

“Hey Antonio, these binders are a bit...tight…” Mozart said, breaking Vivaldi’s train of thoughts.

“A-Ah...right…” Vivaldi flustered. “T-They meant to be like that. You can move freely in them, si?”

Mozart twisted his body to the right, then to the left. 

“No, not really. I-I can barely breathe on even one side.”

Vivaldi quickly apologized, and then slid a finger between the binders and Mozart’s body, occasionally making the latter shiver from his touch, until it went down to his hips. There, he struggled to move his finger to the back, and so loosened the binder. He continued to feel the tightness on the back, remembering the contours of that side. He did the same with the other binder, until he unintentionally felt a plumper area of flesh than the side he initially touched.

“H-Hey…!” Mozart squeaked. “N-No wait--”

He silently prayed that Vivaldi didn’t notice the sound he made.

The other man’s face blushed as bright as a tomato. He apologized again, and tightened that binder a bit more. It obviously was too loose if he went that far down. 

The blond Austrian yelped again at the tightening of the binders, reeling around on his arms and legs.

Vivaldi looked in surprise as Mozart covered his mouth, then looked down as the latter’s arm stood firmly between his legs.

“H-Hey, did you go hard because of that…?” Vivaldi asked as he held Mozart’s arm.

There was a mix of sincerity and curiosity in his voice, but he had to admit -- it was a rather inappropriate question to ask. Could that possibly happen?

“Now’s not the time, Antonio….” Mozart gritted his teeth in irritation. 

“No I’m serious, are you?” He inspected Mozart’s crotch, carefully moving the latter’s legs, causing his friend to gasp and recline his legs. Vivaldi mouthed an apology.

“W-Wow….you are…” 

“No shit!”

Mozart sighed in annoyance, irritated at why in the world does his body have to react like this. 

“Have you ever been a werewolf while in this state?”

“What kind of a goddamn question was that?”

Taken slightly aback, Vivaldi noticed that Mozart’s aggressive side was starting to show up. He wondered if that was because of the influence of the curse, or if he just simply felt embarrassed.

Maybe it was a bit of both. 

Either way, he knew that it was time to lock Mozart’s wrists again. He sighed and reached for the keys in his pocket.

“Don’t...you...fucking dare…” Mozart said in a low threatening voice, eyeing the hand about to search for those keys.

With worry edging his voice, Vivaldi replied “Wolfgang, you know that we have to do this. We’ve done it many times before.”

Yes we have, Vivaldi thought. Why is he upset just now?

“I can smell how turned on you are, all the same. Why do you want to lock me up? Do you want to fuck me in my current state?!”

Vivaldi could see the intimidation in Mozart’s eyes, and Mozart himself could see the concern in his. 

It was hard to disagree with Mozart, Vivaldi knew. Hearing those little voices from Mozart just then made him quite aroused. In retrospect, he realized that he may have gone too far. Fear was already gripping him from being able to say or do anything else.

“Wolfgang…” 

Vivaldi’s voice began to shake with caution. 

“Didn’t you say earlier...that you didn’t want to hurt me?”

Mozart’s eyebrows immediately relaxed at that question.

“Please...don’t let the curse take advantage of you. I’m sorry, very sorry! It was very stupid of me to ask you those questions, and quite rude of me to insist.”

The blond Austrian gave a heavy sigh. He covered his eyes in shame and confusion, not knowing what was going on within him. He’d never acted that antagonistic against Vivaldi right before a transformation in the past, but the realization soon struck him in the head like a brick.

He quickly removed his hands from his eyes and looked at Vivaldi in concern for him.

“N-No...get out of the cage.”

“What--why?” Vivaldi had his strong intentions of staying inside, like he’d promised earlier. He didn’t care if it was a “terrible idea,” like what Mozart said. He wasn’t going to leave his side.

“I’m serious...please, just don’t go near me.”

“I’ve experienced worse scenarios with you as a werewolf. It’s not even a blood moon!”

“No, that’s not it!!”

Mozart’s voice rose loud enough to leave a lingering echo in the room.

“I-I...this is embarrassing….”

“It won’t--”

“I am feeling a bit aroused right now, I admit it.” Mozart blurted out, pausing to take breaths before continuing as he hid his face behind his palms. “I don’t want to do anything that could cause harm.”

A slight feeling of disgust rose in Vivaldi, and Mozart could tell it on his face. He was disgusted at himself for thinking and feeling such a thing too. It couldn’t happen. It simply shouldn’t happen.

“Wolfgang--”

“Goddamn it Antonio-- I’m sorry. J-Just lock me up and stay away from me before I hurt you.”

Vivaldi stood up, and followed what Mozart wished, adding the act of leaving the cage to his list. The man left behind sighed bitterly. He definitely pushed it too far with mentioning how he felt.

He thought he heard footsteps soon after...no, he was just imagining things. He then heard and felt the cage open and close - that was definitely reality, but he didn’t have the courage to face Vivaldi again.


	2. Aggression

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get intense as Mozart's inner beast starts to rise up from within. The chains, shackles, and the binders are tight on Mozart, and he is feeling quite restless. Meanwhile, Vivaldi is not staying true to his holy background, breaking the most elementary rules of his God. He does the most unexpected and blasphemous of all actions.
> 
> Warning: Minor BDSM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //BARFING NOISES

Hearing clothes rustle along with a petulant sigh, Mozart, in confusion, looked up to see Vivaldi undressing, to his surprise - and then increasing worry.

“Antonio what are you do--”

“Hey, I’d rather have you be aroused and induce intercourse with me now than later when it’s worse.” 

Feigned seriousness disguised his reluctance to the commitment.

Mozart stared at Vivaldi, slack-jawed.

“Y-You’re crazy…!”

“No,” Vivaldi said while he fitted black leather gloves onto Mozart’s hands. “I’m being practical. Besides, like what you said,” removing his pants, “I’m just as aroused as you are.”

The Austrian looked at his friend’s crotch, then slowly spread his legs by instinct. Vivaldi raised a curious eyebrow, but spoke nothing of it.

“Wait, what are these gloves for?” Mozart asked, suddenly shifting his attention back.

“In case you claw at me. I’ve seen the damage your very claws are capable to do.”

Vivaldi laughed to try and ease the tense atmosphere, but that comment only made Mozart feel more uncomfortable.

He then proceeded to messily roll up a black piece of cloth, and tied it around Mozart’s head, fitting it into his mouth.

“Here, bite onto this.”

He noticed the sharpened teeth and lengthened canines that often came around every cycle.

From what Vivaldi assumed, Mozart must’ve asked “What’s this for, now?”

He smirked. “Take a guess, my dear werewolf.”

Mozart gave him a deadpanned look. Soon after, however, after he took some heavy breaths, a sharp hot pain urged him to lurch forward, much to Vivaldi’s surprise.

“O-Oh no, Wolfgang…”

What could the man possibly do here?

Mozart glanced back at Vivaldi rather viciously, his eye color starting to shift from the calm familiar gray-blue to almost a deadly glowing golden. 

“If you are going to fuck me, do it now I say!” 

The sudden determination of his partner surprised Vivaldi, but he wasn’t one to start sex right away. He wanted to take his time, something Mozart had learnt to begrudgingly acknowledge in the past. With surprising ease, Vivaldi slung Mozart’s legs over his shoulders and shifted himself away from the wall, dragging the rest of Mozart’s body with him.

“T-That hurts!” Mozart growled.

“We’ve done it before in more...inappropriately wild places,” Vivaldi said, silencing the other. “We’ll just get this over and done with.”

He shoved their clothes under their steaming hot bodies, secretly hoping that they’d be able to be cleaned off and not leave any embarrassing tales to have to be explained.

The Italian bent close to the ground, already moving his clothes over it to random splays as he tried to find a comfortable spot for himself. Shivering at the touch of the tip of his cock to the ground, he tried to dismiss that feeling and focused on slipping Mozart’s undergarments. Having remove them rather swiftly, the dirty underwear made Vivaldi smile with snark.

Pulling the clothing down, it revealed the throbbing hard organ that Mozart so desperately wanted to be played with. 

“I-It’s hurting...j-just hurry…” Mozart pleaded. His cloth gag, now soaked, made it more difficult for him to talk.

Vivaldi looked at Mozart with feigned disappointment.

“Patience is a virtue, Wolfgang.” he said, then licked a strip of saliva from the base to the head, pressing down on the very tip.

No time was wasted by Mozart in letting himself moan freely. By now, his instinctive urges didn’t bother to care about trying to keep quiet.

“More…!” Mozart demanded, moving his hand down for Vivaldi’s head. That motion jerked back as the chains on his wrists refused to let him do anymore. Oh, what he’d do without them!

Paying attention back to Vivaldi’s actions, he could feel the slight amateur hesitations every once in awhile, but he’d be damned if he said that it didn’t make his body burn. He could feel Vivaldi’s tongue slowly slide around his organ, making his legs feel weak with every delicate lick. As his fists clenched, the rest of his body began to twist and turn, until finally, deciding to fuck Vivaldi’s salival orifice.

Without any warning from Mozart, Vivaldi almost choked when he felt the Austrian’s cock suddenly slide so violently down the start of his esophagus. He pressed his hands down on Mozart’s hips, a physical gesture telling him to take it easy.

It felt like spite, but all Vivaldi received as a response was wilder and faster thrusting. Letting Mozart do what he liked, Vivaldi simply opened his mouth for Mozart to treat it like a toy.

Finishing off their session after his jaw began to ache, Vivaldi’s mouth left Mozart, and gave one last play with his tongue, this time slowly savoring the heaving weight of the cock before him while his two hands massaged the flesh elsewhere, edging his friend closer and closer to “coming”. Sucking on the tip only made the organ throb so desperately for a release. Cupping one hand over the top while the other continued moving around, Vivaldi watched the man before him shudder and give a stifled cry as he came.

“T-this is a mass of fluid,” Vivaldi commented, wiping the body fluid off his hands onto whoever’s clothes was beneath him. “How long have you been putting yourself o--”

The dreaded sounds of chains pulling from the wall suddenly stopped Vivaldi from finishing off his sentence. He had obviously out himself off for quite a very long time, Vivaldi answered in his mind, those very words racing past. 

The shock shook Vivaldi, that fear being confirmed by seeing the chains break free of the wall, then by Mozart seen snapping off the shackles of his wrists, like a strong act of demonstrative power.

Almost as if it was vengeful, the lustful face that Mozart presented sent Vivaldi’s heart racing. The inner werewolf was actually free, but his body still retained the human figure.

“W-Wolfgang...are you...a-alright…?”

He dared to ask.

Almost immediately, Mozart pinned him to the ground, only replying with animalistic snarls and growls while his eyes glowed amber with great energy. Vivaldi felt the heavy panting from this werewolf, craving him, just like how Mozart warned him earlier. Vivaldi hastily looked at the closed curtain, sighed with a short-lived sense of relief upon seeing that no moonlight had snuck through. The thunder clouds were probably covering it again.

Vivaldi came to understand that the person with the body of a human on top of him was more comparable to that of a beast, one with the simple desire and instinct to fuck him. And, very beast-like in manner, Mozart tore the gag and binders right off, aggression easily noticeable. Red marks from his mouth to his jaws, and his shoulders to his hips were an indication of how uncomfortably the fabrics rubbed against his fragile skin.

His tongue dripped with thick saliva as he climbed on top of Vivaldi, sharpened teeth adding to the primitive appearance he was expressing. Mozart’s hand snaked down to Vivaldi’s underwear, before ripping it off and letting his own cock roll over his partner. Vivaldi let out his own string of moans, those sounds arousing Mozart just as well, as Vivaldi felt the hardening of this beastial creature on him. It was strangely very pleasurable, Vivaldi realized, to have such a wild character take over the mind of Mozart, and it felt so perverted.  
Growling in self-satisfaction, Mozart weighed down Vivaldi’s twitching erection harder as a reward, slowly digging down before sliding upwards, the action being repeated several times. Vivaldi’s hips reacting positively with impulsive jolts up towards Mozart made the latter release a voice not entirely human. To Vivaldi, it sounded like a human and a wolf’s howl blended together, and the memory of the voice resonated with him.

“G-God...you’re...actually g-good at-- agh…! This!” he rasped, barely able to build a sentence from Mozart’s weight grinding against him.

A hot feeling in Vivaldi quickly began to intensify, his hips swaying faster than expected as it came to the climax. Being well-aware, Mozart pressed his heated body onto Vivaldi’s.

“N-No, Wolfgang-- I-I’m coming…!”

A final, sharp buck of his hips let his warmth paint between them, before finally relaxing. All that Mozart did was look smug and content at his now-weakened partner.

The Austrian crawled off the Italian, and prepared a soft bite on the side. The possible danger came to Vivaldi’s mind, and instinctively he pushed Mozart’s head away with haste, the latter giving a low growl. Realizing his mistake, Vivaldi closed his eyes and shielded his face, repeating apologies, fearing for an attack from Mozart.

….nothing.

Vivaldi felt nothing strike him. Not even a slap. Hesitantly uncovering his face, he saw Mozart stare with worry...a very human expression, he thought.

 

“I--sorry...Wolfgang,” Vivaldi sighed. “But I can’t let you bite me like this.”

Based on Mozart’s calm acceptance, it seemed like he understood.

However, that calm was broken when Mozart’s primal sex drive seethed through him once again. He snarled in irrational demand, and spread Vivaldi’s legs open with such a force that almost hurt the latter’s hips. Mozart held his organ steadily, carefully setting himself in where to go in, until Vivaldi halted him once more. 

“W-Wait...I’m not...prepared there...yet,” Vivaldi spoke again, hoping Mozart would understand. “J-Just...let me…”

Slowly and coyly, Vivaldi brought his knees up near his face, revealing his entrance which Mozart so badly wanted to take it all for himself. Vivaldi remembered the amazing pain of having been fucked there the very first time, and he anticipated it again in fear and delight. To be taken by a feral creature somewhere between a human and a werewolf was a completely different story, however. It was also something that, admittedly, he was curious about.

“Argh...I’m such a horrible priest.” Vivaldi said to himself, words slurring through lust. He thought he heard a snarky grunt from Mozart.

Next to nothing around him could be useful to ease the entering, Vivaldi realized, and so used his own cock’s drooling pre-ejection as the poor excuse of a lubricating substitute. Once his finger entered himself, Vivaldi let loose some soft pants, provoking Mozart’s own breathing to become jagged and uncontrollable, able to feel his own organ impatiently desire for it. Vivaldi continued to open up himself, masturbating as Mozart hungrily watched on, the latter’s fluids beginning to dirty the bottom half of his torso. When he deemed it comfortable, Vivaldi let a second finger slide in, making him have more difficulty in breathing steadily. The humiliation he felt from doing such a dirty act in front of Mozart ironically turned him on more. It was such a twisted logic, but he couldn’t care less.


	3. Fight of Dominance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With due time, Mozart releases his inner beast upon the Red Priest fully, and the latter couldn't help but to go along with the Austrian's feral nature in fear that in the case of objection, Mozart would end up passing the curse onto him. 
> 
> At this point, there was no way to stop Mozart from wanting more and more of his priestly friend, being controlled by his pure beast-like impulses. Oh, the irony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO MUCH SIN I WAN 2 DYE

Mozart’s fantasy was cut off when Vivaldi shifted closer to him, a hungry expression mirroring his own.

With an a small smile, Vivaldi kneeled himself over Mozart, directing the latter’s cock into his entrance. The moment he lowered himself, both let out indecent sounds - Mozart releasing that wolf-like voice while Vivaldi muffled his shouts, struggling to bring himself down.

As Mozart held Vivaldi’s hips steadily, the other clinged tightly onto his arms, digging half-moon marks into his skin. Vivaldi could feel every inch of movement burning him in masochistic pleasure, with Mozart’s fluids smearing his insides. Slowly, Vivaldi slid down his partner’s cock, forcing moans out of both of them as both held each other tighter; a burning and heavy feeling being stoked in their stomachs.

Vivaldi’s mind was screaming pleasure and pain repeatedly. It felt like Mozart was too much to handle, but at the same time Vivaldi couldn't help but continue moving his hips. By the time he reached the base, he was gripping Mozart’s arms to make them red, then white, then red again. 

That will definitely leave bruises there in the morning.

Finally being inside Vivaldi, Mozart gave a shuddering grunt, feeling the walls cling around his cock so tightly. It rendered him weak, he realized as he felt his legs twitch; it almost made him reconsider his place.

Both men paused before continuing, taking their time to adjust to the feeling. Only their hoarse pants broke the silence of this godforsaken room.  
Mozart experienced an accessory of sensations as he felt the slow movements of Vivaldi sliding up and down around his cock. Feeling every stimulation he could from this, it made him hungrier, lusting for the rest of Vivaldi’s body.

Unable to help himself, Mozart stroked Vivaldi’s torso, streaking off his partner’s thick come and licking it off his fingers. The taste of Vivaldi just made him so ravenous for more, it didn’t come to mind that he was already beginning to lick him, savouring every inch of skin that he could feel.  
As Vivaldi rode him, hips occasionally tightening, Mozart let his tongue slide over Vivaldi’s hardened nipple. 

“N-No… Don't-- ngh…! D-Don’t touch me th-there…” Vivaldi urged, as his hips became more unsteady.

In spite of what Vivaldi said, Mozart played with his nipples more, caressing them, sucking them, but careful to not pierce his skin - that was probably the only thing on his mind that stopped him from doing anything riskier. But damn it, Mozart wanted more.

More than more, he realised - he wanted to break Vivaldi. He wanted to devour the man before him, every single part until he could no longer say a word. He felt those explicitly sexual urges in him reprising, and he did nothing to stop it. He wanted more of that.  
Mozart gave a guttural growl of assertion, forcefully pushing Vivaldi back down by the shoulders to the clothed ground the moment they became used to the fiery feeling. 

Ignoring the other's quick cry of pain, Mozart pulled himself out and slung Vivaldi’s legs over his shoulders, before tightly restraining his hands down like the shackles that held him. Without any further questions, the werewolf rammed himself back into his partner, making Vivaldi cry out a stifled yell. Those forms of communicating by Mozart were without words, only consisting of feral sounds with every forceful draw that sounded too much like an animal.

That was what he was - an animal, a predator with the desire to take his prey like his meal. His impulses only told him to have Vivaldi all for himself, to fuck the man before him as fast as he could, as hard as he could. If he wasn't allowed to bite into Vivaldi, this was his alternative way. To go feral, wild and break him. 

As intensely lewd and dangerous it was, he only craved pleasure, and his ruthless animalistic side wasn't going to let anything stop him at this point.  
But at the same time, he sought that spot of nerves which gave his partner a deep feeling of ecstasy. He continued to thrust deeper and more roughly, drawing back and forcing himself forward until Vivaldi’s hyper-aroused reaction finally confirmed his accomplishment.

The Italian drew a loud moan, possibly mixed with a yell, as he felt that particular part in him being struck over and over in such a violent fashion.  
Lavish moments of perverted voices drowned out whatever he was gonna say afterwards, and whatever was on his mind. He could feel his twitching cock’s fluids overflowing, he could feel it warm and sticky against his own stomach.

“Wolfgang--!” Vivaldi panted, “S-Slow down…!”

Looking straight at the primal face above him, Vivaldi for a moment thought he saw a split second’s nervous falter in those amber eyes.

Baring his fangs, Mozart let out a small growl as if he snapped back to reality, readjusting their bodies as they give themselves a second’s break before they continued their session. Vivaldi bit on his knuckle from another violently puissant thrust from the younger man as the latter re-initiated their activity. God, it hurt worse than hell, but the deeper Mozart went into him the more fulfilling it felt - a cruel yet rewarding paradox in itself. He could feel Mozart’s claws beginning to dig into his flesh, despite his gloved hands; it was fair, he thought, and it was fine. Whether he possessed the mind of a human or of a werewolf, Mozart was still Mozart.

Mozart gave an aggressively shaky snarl, like he was living a forbidden fantasy, as he continued aggressively pleasuring both himself and Vivaldi. Nothing could control him at this point, his mind blurred by a phantasm of lustful desire, and a body wanting to bury itself ever deeper into Vivaldi. He didn't want this feeling to end - it just felt so fucking satisfying for him.

The Austrian’s inhuman noises grew louder as he grasped Vivaldi’s legs closer, looming over him. His movements dug and rolled in deeper, lust beginning to climb to a peak. Vivaldi could feel it too, the throbbing inside him being the giveaway which his own cock imitated. Mozart’s heavy sharp panting projected the feelings of desire, but also passion and love, a beastly sense of it all, and Vivaldi was willing to return the favour.

Saying no more words and only hearing each other's desire to finish, the two immersed themselves completely in the moment, letting their enveloping bodies burn as they came.  
Exhausted, the two men breathed shuddering pants as their bodies began to relax. Mozart’s trembling arms kept strong to not collapse and hurt Vivaldi underneath him. The older man shifted the lower half of his body free of Mozart’s softening cock, not long before breathing a slightly pained whimper as he felt come spill from him arse. Mozart limped to Vivaldi’s right, then lied down next to him, still heavily breathing.

“I… I actually did it with a werewolf,” Vivaldi said, out of breath, surprised with himself. Well, technically no, under physical circumstances, he corrected himself, but the way Mozart behaved during then could've been considered so.

Surprised to feel a lick on the cheek from Mozart, Vivaldi groaned and hid his face under his hands, madly blushing. 

“Stupid, who switches from an aggressive dominant to someone like you in such a short time? Damn it, I hurt everywhere.” A flustering weight in his chest and shaky hands, however, reflected his hidden appreciation for the other man.

Through a peek between his fingers, Vivaldi looked at the clock. 12:02, he saw. His eyes moved around the room to reread the moon calendar the two had plotted out months in advance. On the midnight of this day, he observed, the moon wasn’t yet completely full.

Petulant, Vivaldi whipped his head to Mozart, who was falling asleep, a calm expression on his face. Great, now Vivaldi couldn't scold him about it.

“Wolfgang, you're an idiot,” his muffled voice said. “We were a day early.” No wonder his physical body didn't transform tonight, Vivaldi thought in retrospect, but the moon still influenced Mozart.

Too much so. The bottom half of his body still felt awfully sore, as well as his back.

 

Vivaldi was going to have to keep his distance the next night, and Mozart is going to need better restraints.


End file.
